Killing Moon
by Dennis Noonan
It was late August. Dusk had given way to night. The Sturgeon Moon was like a brass disk welded to the black metal sky. He was sitting in his favorite old stuffed canvas chair on the front porch. The friendly scent of mildew melded pleasantly with the strong aroma from his presidente. He drew in and the tip glowed red; he let the smoke linger in his mouth for a moment before he exhaled. The cloud of smoke drifted slowly in the still air towards the now orange globe hanging low just above the horizon. He thought, "It should be called the 'Killing Moon' because that is what I am about to do.”
It had been planned. He had discussed it with his wife. She had even gone to the closet under the staircase to bring him the ball peen hammer. "Quickly, my sweet," she urged him. She did not plan to watch.
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door to get a fresh beer. Then he went to the sink and took the hammer and whacked both lobsters with a quick movement. Then, he plunged the carcasses in the boiling water in the large pot.
When she came back to the kitchen, he took her in his arms, snaked a wet tongue in her ear and whispered, "It's done."
by Dennis Noonan
It was late August. Dusk had given way to night. The Sturgeon Moon was like a brass disk welded to the black metal sky. He was sitting in his favorite old stuffed canvas chair on the front porch. The friendly scent of mildew melded pleasantly with the strong aroma from his presidente. He drew in and the tip glowed red; he let the smoke linger in his mouth for a moment before he exhaled. The cloud of smoke drifted slowly in the still air towards the now orange globe hanging low just above the horizon. He thought, "It should be called the 'Killing Moon' because that is what I am about to do.”
It had been planned. He had discussed it with his wife. She had even gone to the closet under the staircase to bring him the ball peen hammer. "Quickly, my sweet," she urged him. She did not plan to watch.
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door to get a fresh beer. Then he went to the sink and took the hammer and whacked both lobsters with a quick movement. Then, he plunged the carcasses in the boiling water in the large pot.
When she came back to the kitchen, he took her in his arms, snaked a wet tongue in her ear and whispered, "It's done."
